The Adventures of Young Hot Roy and Hacker Fox
by Xyzzyka Gruefrotzer
Summary: A silly story based on a not-yet-drawn comic about a party, booze, porn star names, and a truck, firmly ensconced in the realm of crackfic. Implied Dave/Hal, unrequited Liquid/Ocelot, and a secret mystery pairing or threesome which is also slash.


I came up with this idea for a comic the day before MGS4's release. Having therefore no time to draw it before most of the story is rendered invalid, I therefore take this prose version and unleash it upon the Internet. I have no idea why I used the word "understandingly" three times in this story. Apologies to Naomi Hunter, Linda the truck, and Hideo Kojima.

* * *

"...you know it's a terrible security risk to have us all in one place like this."  
"Shut up and have another beer, Snake."  
"Fine, fine." Snake shut up and had another beer.

"Dr. Emmerich," Campbell spoke gravely, "I must impress upon you the great responsibility of your position as designated driver."  
"I know sir."  
"A great deal of trust has been placed in you."  
"Right," said Hal with a resolute nod.  
"So if ANYTHING untoward happens to my truck, you will rue the day you were born, the day you failed me, and most of the days in between. Understood?" Roy was understandably protective of his exceedingly pimped-out truck, with its chrome grill, custom pinstriping, the finest leather upholstery, a high quality stereo system, and spinners. He had named it Linda.  
Hal made a nervous sound in his throat. "Y-yes sir."  
The doorbell rang and Hal loudly announced his intent to answer it, eager to escape the truck-lover's baleful presence.  
Campbell followed him to the door anyway, since he wasn't done being menacing yet.  
Hal gaped at the person who had rung the doorbell. "...Ocelot?"  
"Hey. I heard you guys were having a party."  
"NO, Ocelot," said the Colonel, cutting off the inevitable request.  
"I'll be good! Liquid's not a problem when I'm drunk. Well," he added, muttering to himself, "I think so, anyway; I keep blacking out..."  
A more emphatic NO, this time uttered by both men standing inside the doorway.  
"Come on," Ocelot wheedled. "I brought a keg!"  
An exactly humorous amount of time passed, then: "Oh, alright then. Otacon, help me bring in the man's keg."  
Hal shrugged and stooped to lift his end of the keg. When he found himself able to hoist the object with one arm and no assistance, he felt he had to offer some protest. "Hey, this thing's nearly empty!"  
Campbell glowered at Revolver Ocelot, awaiting an acceptable explanation for lying about such a noble, holy thing as a beer keg.  
"Well, it got heavy on the way here, and I..." His clever excuse was interrupted when he fell suddenly to the ground.  
They stared at him in silence for a few seconds, then closed the door, leaving Ocelot passed out drunk on the front step.

About then the artist decided Campbell was too hard to draw.  
"You're too hard to draw," she said, "So from now on you're going to be young hot Roy."  
"Too hard to draw?" scoffed (the now young and hot) Roy. "You can barely draw at all; the only way to tell your characters apart is by how you've drawn their hair."  
"Yes," said the artist. "Which is why you are now young hot Roy."  
"...Fair enough," said young hot Roy, and took another swig of his beer.  
("Though really, since this is only a transcript of something you were planning to draw, this is essentially useless."  
"I'm going to draw it eventually!"  
"Riiiight.")  
All this understandably caused a minor furor among the women.  
"He's so young!" Mei Ling giggled.  
"And hot!" squealed Rosemary.  
Meryl, vaguely grossed out, rolled her eyes.  
Nastasha just grinned. "He looks just like you, Meryl. You've got his hair."  
"Hey, I sure do!"  
"You mean your hair does that naturally?" asked Rose, surprised. "I always thought, you know..."  
"That I styled it this way? Nah. I mean think about it, Rose. When would a soldier find time to do their hair?"  
Rosemary pondered this for a moment. "Um... well, Jack--"  
She couldn't understand why the others suddenly started laughing.

-!-

"If there were a porno...? Well, my codename would still be Solid Snake."  
"Huh. I guess you're right."  
"You're no fun," grumbled young hot Roy. "That's about as uncreative as Big Boss picking Big Boss or Naked Snake."  
"Not our fault our codenames are so awesome."  
"Or perverted."  
The doorbell rang again. Hal got it, now unaccompanied by any menacing colonels.  
This time the door opened to reveal Naomi Hunter. "I didn't know you guys were having a party! Can I come in?"  
"Um...let me check."  
He yelled over his shoulder to the others: "Hey, did anyone invite Naomi?"  
"No," called the others (except for Roy, who asked if she'd brought a keg). "She's a bitch!"  
As she failed to produce a keg, Hal repeated the message unnecessarily to Naomi. "No. You're a bitch." He closed the door.

Revolver Ocelot came to just in time for a spectacular view up Naomi's skirt. Not quite fully aware of his actions yet, he was foolish enough to comment on it. Fortunately for him, she was wearing entirely the wrong kind of shoes to properly curbstomp somebody.  
It still hurt quite a bit though.  
As his vision faded into black, he heard Liquid Snake's obnoxious voice. "Bad luck," he said. "The ladies just don't care for you, do they? Looks like I'm beating you off again tonight."  
Fervently wishing he were left-handed, or better yet, not possessed by a sexual deviant, Ocelot once again lost consciousness.

The party games continued inside. "Look, if everybody's going to put Fox or Snake or Pussy in their porno codename, this is just going to be boring!" (This was not strictly true, as Mei Ling's codename had been proclaimed to be Soliton Love, and Naomi's as Hunter Bitch.)  
"But the Colonel got to put Fox in his porno codename!" whined Raiden.  
"Yes, but my codename actually is Fox," said young hot Roy.  
"Yeahbut-"  
Meryl decided to be the voice of reason. "Look, it doesn't matter anyway. Everyone knows Raiden's porno codename would be Rooster Lollipop."  
Everyone laughed except for Raiden, who wouldn't get the joke until the following Thursday, at which time he would become understandably upset.  
"Hang on," said Snake. "I thought Gray Fox was the only member of FOXHOUND with the codename Fox. What is this, some kind of retcon?"  
"Oh, that," shrugged young hot Roy. "I don't count because I wasn't out there in the field. I was just a tactician. In fact, y'know what?" He slung a somewhat drunken arm around Hal's shoulders. "Otacon, as the only commanding officer of FOXHOUND ever who hasn't gone batshit crazy, I hereby dub thee Hacker Fox!"  
"Gee, uh...thanks?" He was quite happy with the codename he had already, actually.  
Mei Ling raised her glass. "A toast to Hacker Fox!"  
"To Hacker Fox!"  
Hal blushed a little, but accepted their accolades gracefully. He figured everyone would forget about this "Hacker Fox" business by tomorrow morning anyway.  
He was wrong, though events would at least conspire to distract them for a little while.  
"Does this mean he gets to have Fox in his porno codename too?" pouted Rooster Lollipop.  
"No way," said Snake. "It'd have to be Nine-inch Cock."  
"Dave!" wailed Hal, mortified.  
The rest of the party made a noise that could best be transcribed as "!". Nastasha did a rather spectacular spit take.  
"Um," Mei Ling hesitantly raised her glass again in the ensuing awkward silence. "To Hacker Fox?"  
"To Hacker Fox!" cried the others exultantly.  
Hal buried his bright red face in his hands and did not emerge for a full five minutes.

This, too, would not be forgotten about tomorrow morning.

-!-

Suddenly young hot Roy snapped to attention, gently shushed everyone (by yelling "Hey, everyone, SHUT UP!"), and stood very still as if listening intently.  
"Colonel Campbell? What is it?"  
"I felt a great disturbance in the Force." Eventually noticing the dumbfounded looks he was garnering, he added, "What? ...I used to know this girl, alright? She quoted movies a lot."  
Even more suddenly, he dashed through the front door.  
A moment later came a grief-stricken wail: "LINDA!"

"This isn't a fair match." Revolver Ocelot appealed to the artist as Death came toward him very quickly in the form of young hot Roy. "If he gets to be young hot Roy, why can't I be young hot Ocelot?"  
"Sounds reasonable," she said. ("Hey, wait, what about me?!" cried Liquid from somewhere.) With absolutely no transitional effects whatsoever, Ocelot became young hot Ocelot, and Liquid's arm, no longer needed, dropped unceremoniously to the ground.  
"Ha!" Young hot Ocelot pulled out his beloved revolver and with relish began to shoot the arm repeatedly. In his liberation-fueled joy, however, he'd forgotten a rather important detail.  
"Excuse me," said young hot Roy with a menacingly murderous chill in his voice (and only a faint note of surprise at Ocelot's appearance). "Do you happen to know what happened to my truck?"  
"Um." Ocelot's eyes flickered down to the bullet-ridden arm at his feet. "It was Liquid?"  
"Liquid," repeated Roy levelly, also staring at the arm.  
"Yes."  
"Alright then."  
Ocelot leaned (gently) against Campbell's tricked-out truck and watched the ensuing scenes of unspeakable violence with amusement and no small sense of revenge. Then his shoulder angels showed up to pester him.  
His shoulder angels weren't the traditional angel/devil dichotomy of old cartoons, though they'd chosen oddly complementary names for themselves and had a strange tendency to wear white and black. They weren't even, strictly speaking, his conscience (though not for lack of trying); they were just a couple of ...presences who turned up now and then to bother him. Usually he tried to ignore them.  
"Liquid is not pleased with you," understated the floaty guy with glasses. He was in the habit of occasionally crying tears of blood, which struck Ocelot as needlessly melodramatic.  
"That man was a comrade of Big Boss," chided the other, a blonde-haired woman with flowers all around her whom he absolutely refused to acknowledge as familiar. "How could you key his truck and then lie about it?"  
"Well I did it with my right hand," muttered young hot Ocelot. "It could have been Liquid." At her exasperated sigh, he added, "You're right, I'm sorry. I should have told him it was that woman with no panties and impractical shoes."

-!-

Some time later, the others began to wonder where young hot Roy had gotten to.  
"He's probably out there trying to buff the scratches off his truck with a sock," was Snake's theory.  
"I'll go get him," Hal sighed, having become the de facto doorman of the evening.  
After listening to Dave's worried warnings of the possibility of foul play (but no offer to come along, as he was currently engaged in a futile attempt to drink Mei Ling under the table), Hal crept out the front door and cautiously approached Linda the truck.  
Unbeknownst to him, Ocelot's shoulder angels were perched (or hovering) on top of Linda's cab having a discussion which no doubt would have been amusing had Ocelot been in any position to listen to it, which he wasn't.  
The angel in black snickered. "Big Boss says he wants to make it a threesome."  
"!" replied the flower angel.  
"Hello? Colonel Campbell?" Hal had reached the truck now, and peered cautiously into the truck through a slightly condensation-coated window.

In less than five seconds he was back inside the house and putting away enough alcohol to rival even Mei Ling (who, with Snake's concession, remained reigning tipple champion). He had decided that he needed to get very very drunk very very quickly.  
"Er... Dr. Emmerich..." said Nastasha gently. "Aren't you the designated driver?"  
"New plan," said Hal thickly between burning swallows, "slumber party."  
"WOO, SLUMBER PARTY!" squealed Raiden. Hal had by now consumed enough booze to just about see the flowers and glitter floating behind Raiden and the heart symbol inside his speech bubble. "We'll braid each other's hair and do each other's nails and--"

-!-

The next morning, Hal opened his bleary eyes only to be greeted by a face full of angry Roy Campbell.  
"Emmerich," he bellowed (causing several people with hangovers and glittery fingernails to groan robustly), "What the hell happened to my truck?!"  
"Um- uh," Hal stammered nervously, fumbling and wondering where his glasses were, because who would hit a guy with glasses? "I don't know sir, we were all here and then you ran outside and-"  
"Not that," he said dismissively, impatiently. "I know about the scratches, that was Liquid Snake's doing. What happened to the interior?"  
"The- the interior?"  
"My top grain leather upholstery, Emmerich. Why did I find the seats covered in stains this morning?"  
Hal grimaced. Apparently he'd passed out before he'd drank enough to blot out the memory. "That was you, sir. You were having sex with Revolver Ocelot."  
"Oh." Campbell considered this a moment, then nodded. "That's right. Of course. Carry on, Hacker Fox." He left the room then, trying not to look like he was in a hurry and pointedly ignoring the chorus of "!"s behind him.

-!-

"Gaaaah, my arm!" Revolver Ocelot grimaced in pain and cursed in German, having long since run out of naughty English and Russian words. He would be moving on to French next.  
"What did you expect would happen?" scolded shoulder angel white. "The artist doesn't have any trouble drawing you; your hair is perfectly distinctive!"  
"I hate to say I told you so," added shoulder angel black.  
Ocelot was in far too much pain to remind himself not to glare at invisible nuisances. He glared at the black-clad invisible nuisance. "You didn't tell me at all!"  
"I know," the dark angel nodded. "That's why."  
"Nnnnnhhh-!" Ocelot snarled indistinctly.  
"Ha ha, serves you right," spoke the gloating voice of Liquid Snake.  
"Oh, fuck off, Snake," snapped Ocelot. "And why the hell does my ass hurt?"  
"Um," said the Sorrow.  
"Well," said the Joy.  
"Serves you double right," said Liquid Snake.  
Big Boss said something too, but the Sorrow thought it wise not to pass it on.


End file.
